The Hunted Detective
by Jinx2016
Summary: What John had thought to be just a usual day of visiting Mycroft turned out to be a nightmare. Sherlock is missing and John's only hope in finding him before the Slitheen is a time traveler and his companion. Rated T for just in case. WhoLock! (Part2 now up!)
1. A Monster in The British Government

_John_

John sat in the black car one crisp early morning in London. It was the usual kind of day for John Watson. Sherlock had left the flat earlier in the night to do god knows what and left John with no note or anything to help identify where he may be. John was rather used to this by now however. He just shrugged off his flat mate's running off as nothing more than just a case or something. Either way, John knew that today was the day he could sit around the flat and read, watch telly, or blog like any normal person. He was completely and utterly wrong, though. The very second he got to his chair and opened up a book sitting on the pile on the floor his phone bleeped. It was of course from the British Government himself and now here he was; on his way to the Diogenes club. There was a heavy driver on the wheel and the man constantly glanced back at John. John didn't understand why. It wasn't like he was going to jump out of the fast moving car. No, he had learned his lesson after jumping out of one with his flat mate.

"John," Mycroft said, nodding for the good doctor to sit down as he walked into the room, not hiding the grumpy look on his face.

"Mycroft, just spit it out. I don't have time for-"

"Where is my brother, Dr. Watson?" Mycroft asked suddenly. John stared at Mycroft for a moment, noting that the man must have broken from his diet. He seemed fairly plumper than usual and the room was an over powering smell of…bad breath? He must have forgotten to visit his dentist as well. "Where is my brother?" Mycroft repeated, breaking John from his observations. The good doctor simply shrugged.

"He went out last night. Just the usual," John replied.

"I see." Mycroft sat straighter in his chair, his eyes dull and lifeless. John frowned into them. Where was the clever spark of light? John ran his eyes over the elder Holmes again. Something was wrong. He didn't know what, but he refused to stick around and find out.

"Well, I'll let you know if I find anything Mycroft," John stated, stepping quickly to the door. Just as he was about to step out of the office a metal door slammed shut, blocking his way. John's heart thudded in his heart.

"I can smell it on you, Dr. Watson. I can smell the lies," Mycroft spat, but it wasn't his voice any longer. The voice was deeper and well…just not human. John argued with himself not to turn around; not to look at the elder Holmes. John's curiosity was stronger than his reason, however and he couldn't help but to sneak a peek. John instantly regretted the action. A suit of skin now lay on the floor. John had to use every inch of power he had to keep from gagging at the sight. Standing on top of the skin were two large green feet with long claws and connecting to that was the body of a dark eyed monster.

"Wha…What are you?" John stammered, stepping back until he was pinned against the doorway. The creature chuckled lightly, blinking at John with its inhuman eyes.

"We are the Slitheen," a new voice chuckled from the other side of the room. The driver who had escorted John into the room was now a pile of skin as well. Now only a green monster stood in his place. John's heart hammered in his chest and he watched in terror as the creatures came closer, lifting their claws up to John's throat. "Where is Sherlock Holmes?!" they ordered him. John pursed his lips, shaking like a leaf. Why did they want Sherlock? Had he done something…What was he thinking?! If Sherlock knew little…_big_ green creatures were real he would have told him, right? Either way, he didn't know where Sherlock was and even if he did he wouldn't say a thing. With a quick breath John stared at the green monsters, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white.

"That's for me to know and for you to never find out!" The creatures hissed in outrage by John's answer and lifted their claws to slash into his flesh. John squeezed his eyes shut, a soft prayer running along his lips. That's when he felt the breeze ruffling through his hair and kissing his skin. A noise like no other hummed in his ears. He could have sworn he heard the creatures hiss at the noise; repeating one word. Doctor. John forced open his eyes to see a blue box sitting in the office. The green monsters were no longer looking at John now. All their attention was on the box. John shook his head. He must be going mad. All these late nights and crime fighting must finally be getting to him.

* * *

_Clara_

"Doctor, what are you doing?!" Clara shouted as The Doctor slammed down a few switches on the T.A.R.D.I.S council. The Doctor was beaming away with a wild smile. She didn't understand what was happening. One second they're on their way to the 5609 Olympics, and the next The Doctor gets a strange message on his psychic paper and they are blasting away through time. "Doctor?!" Clara shouted again, holding on for dear life as the T.A.R.D.I.S whipped them back and forth violently. The grumpy old cow! Why can't she just fly smoothly for once?! Just as The Doctor opened his mouth to answer her, the amazing time machine jerked to a halt and the two of them flipped over onto their backs.

"Earth! London!" The Doctor chanted, bolting from where he lay and pulling open a floor panel.

"Yeah, I'm alright, thanks for asking," Clara huffed, picking herself off the floor of The Doctor's time machine. She stepped over to The Doctor's side, watching as he pulled out a plastic spray bottle marked with black lettering: Vinegar.

"HAHA! Here we are!" The Doctor shouted, shoving the bottle into Clara's hands and straitening his bow tie.

"Doctor-"

"Clara, now listen to me. In this bottle is a deadly substance-"A scream rattled off from outside. Clara flinched; her eyes, flying towards the doorway. The Doctor's face instantly dropped from its peppy flourish of excitement to a fierce and terrifying look that sent shivers down Clara's skin. "Stay close, Clara," he stated simply, marching over to the door and swinging them open. Clara followed him without hesitation and found herself face to face with large green monsters and a man with blondish hair and a jumper. One of the creatures had its long claw above the man's head, ready to strike him at any moment. The Doctor smiled at the sight of the creatures.

"Well, now! Raxacoricofallapatorians! The Slitheen family I presume?" stated The Doctor. The creatures made a growling noise in their throats.

"Yes, Doctor and we know you as well."

"Well, yes. Who could forget this gorgeous face? Well…this one and several others."

"You are the destroyer of our kin!" snapped the one that was not threatening the very pale looking man in a jumper. The Doctor simply shrugged, leaning against the TARDIS casually.

"You threatened the people of this planet. I gave you a warning and you ignored it." The Doctor's eyes then scanned over to the man being threatened by the Slitheen's claw. He frowned at the man for a moment and then his eyes widened in realization. The Slitheen both chuckled to themselves as they glanced between the man and The Doctor.

"Well, isn't this a sweet reunion?" they chortled.

"John…" The Doctor breathed, looking absolutely surprised. "What..."

"Who are you people?!" the man known as John shouted, stepping farther back from them, but there was a door in his way.

"John, I'm sorry. I know this is hard for you to understand at the moment but…" The Doctor paused, taking in the terror gleaming in John's eyes. "Where is Sherlock?" Clara frowned at the name. Wasn't that a detective from some book? She glanced at the man called John, noticing that his eyes were overflowing in protectiveness and fear.

"I…I don't know…" John slurred, falling to his knees. Everything must have been starting to become too much for him. Clara stepped forward to stop his fall, but the Slitheen's arm came down at her.

"Clara, use the vinegar!" The Doctor screamed at her as the claw came closer to her throat. Clara heard herself scream as she lifted the bottle and sprayed the green monster. The creature paused for a second and glanced at the other.

_Splat!_

Green gunk erupted all over them. The living Slitheen screeched at the sight of its brother splattered along the walls and The Doctor quickly jumped into action. He dashed to Clara, who was trying to lift the unconscious man. They carried him into the T.A.R.D.I.S, ignoring the screams of the Slitheen as they flew away in their time machine.

"Doctor, what happened? Who is this and why did those…those things want him?" Clara asked, as The Doctor draped his coat overtop of John. The Doctor bit at his lip, staring down at the man that now lay on the floor of the T.A.R.D.I.S. He took in a deep breath and pointed at John with his pointer finger.

"This is Doctor John Watson and those _things_ want him in order to hunt down the most cunning mind on Earth." Clara frowned at The Doctor.

"Who's that then?" A smirk crossed The Doctor's face, but another voice answered her question. She looked down to see John very much awake. His eyes looked a bit dazed, but other than that he looked fine. Slowly, he sat up and looked Clara in the eyes and stated simply,

"That man would be my friend Sherlock Holmes."

* * *

**So this is just a simple crossover with Sherlock and Doctor Who I've been arguing to myself about for ages now. It'll keep going if I get some good feedback and if you guys enjoy it of course. I'm not used to writing Crossovers, but I had an idea and I just thought; "What the hell." I'll try anything. So...anywho, I hope you all enjoy it and don't forget to leave a review! **


	2. The Search for the Hunted Detective

_John_

John sat by what looked like a control table for the…the…_thing_ he was in. The girl Clara had brought him some tea, but he couldn't drink it. He felt like he was going to be sick. He just saw Mycroft Holmes turn into some giant green blob, an alien according to the man who saved his life. The man known as The Doctor was there too, but he was busy fiddling with his machine and yelling out random things. It sounded so much like Sherlock's crazy blabber. John's heart tightened. Sherlock…he was still missing, being hunted down by those monster.

"Well, that's basically it," Clara stated, finishing the whole intro about The Doctor, time travel, and the TARDIS. He had been listening to her, but he felt that it was just too much to take in at once. Monsters and time travel? It seemed so…so…alien. John let out a shaky sigh and glanced over to the Doctor.

"So that thing…the Slitheen…What it did…" John sucked in another breath, trying to control the shaking in his voice. "Mycroft…is he…" The Doctor stopped fiddling with the TARDIS and let his eyes lock onto John's.

"I'm sorry," he said, his ancient eyes staring deeply into John's. His bubbly personality set on hold for a moment. John lowered his head into his hands.

"What am I going to tell Sherlock?" John asked to mainly himself. He knew the two had a past, but he knew that the death of a sibling was something Sherlock couldn't just brush off. Just thinking about it scared him.

The Doctor turned away and began tapping crazily on the council. He was humming a little song in his head that sounded familiar. He scanned his eyes over The Doctor. If he was going to trust these people with his and Sherlock's life then he needed to deduce a few things about him first. He would have asked, but just looking in the madman's eyes he knew he was a liar. He had said he met Sherlock and John in their future, but that didn't mean he had to trust him. Scanning him carefully John was able to pick up a few things. He noticed the glasses poking out of The Doctor's pockets. They weren't his. His eyes looked perfectly healthy so he must be keeping them for another reason. He acts peppy and fun, but his eyes are full of sadness. He looked like he had seen the worst things possible and the most beautiful-"

"First we need to find him. His brother works…worked for the government so it's obvious that he knew about all of this. You're his friend and I doubt he would just leave you like he did." The Doctor stated, carrying on their conversation and breaking John from his observations. John shook himself and looked at the two time travelers as they stared at the TARDIS council.

"You're saying that maybe he went home?" Clara asked, crossing her arms over her chest. The Doctor's eyes beamed brightly and he put his hand on one of the leavers.

"Let's go to 221B Baker Street!" The Doctor pulled down on the leaver and everything shook. John grabbed at the railing as they flew back and forth. For a high tech machine it sure wasn't a smooth ride.

* * *

_Clara_

She couldn't believe it. She was actually standing in the home of Sherlock Holmes himself! It was cluttered with papers, books, and experiments, but it was all still amazing. The Doctor looked just as pleased as she did.

"Doctor?" Clara whispered as John strolled into what must have been Sherlock's room. The Doctor looked at her, noticing that she had her serious face on once again. "How do you know them and why are they here? Aren't they supposed to be in Victorian London?" Clara asked. The Doctor's smile widened.

"Well done, Clara! Excellent thinking!" The Doctor beamed, staring into the eyeless sockets of a skull sitting on the mantel piece of the fireplace. "A while back when I was visiting London these two had stumbled inside, thinking it was just some ordinary phone box. I didn't know they were in the TARDIS so I just went back to Victorian London. They had ran out of my ship and stumbled into an entirely different world. John and Sherlock continued with their cases and hired a man as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle to write their stories in hope that it would grab my attention and bring me back. I was fond of reading Sherlock Holmes so I traveled back in time to see John and Sherlock to find them living happily in Baker Street of long ago." Clara frowned at the Doctor when he finished his story.

"But, they don't know who you are," Clara stated. The doctor's smile beamed brighter.

"That is because it has not yet happened." Clara roller her eyes. Here it comes. The Doctor excitedly jumped up and down on his feet and shouted to no one in particular, "Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey!" Clara smacked her hand against her face, shaking her head. He was such a dork. He was The Doctor, though so you can only expect that out of him.

John returned then, carrying a violin gently in his hands. Sticking to the violins frame was a slender note in carelessly fast handwriting. Whoever had been writing the note had been in a hurry. John handed the violin carefully to Clara and gave The Doctor the note.

"It's a clue," John stated simply.

"A clue?" Clara repeated, glancing at the note the Doctor held in his hand. The Doctor, unlike John looked quite excited about the clue, but that was to be expected. The Doctor found anything and everything to be exciting and deciphering clues from the Great Sherlock Holmes was one of those things.

_**Violin Solo: Page 13**_

"_**God save our gracious Queen!" **_

"_**Long live our noble Queen!" **_

"_**God save the Queen!"**_

Clara frowned at the lyrics. What kind of a clue was this? Did he want them to sing a song or something? John tapped at his chin, glancing around the flat. Clara simply looked to The Doctor, who seemed just as stumped.

"I could ring up her majesty. Maybe Sherlock left a clue with her or something-"

"You've met him once apparently," John stated, laughing at The Doctor's remark. "I don't think she would do Sherlock Holmes a favor if it could save all of Britain." The Doctor stopped for a moment, thinking about it and then nodded in agreement.

"Well…then maybe he meant-"

"Doctor?" Clara interrupted looking a little closer at the note. The Doctor's head popped up to her and she pointed at the underlined worlds.

"Those words…the underlined words." The Doctor rolled his eyes at his companion.

"Yes, Clara it is the name of the violin book you can find it in…OH!" The Doctor grabbed the note from her and held it to the light. "Oh that is brilliant!" John jumped over to The Doctor's side, staring down at the note, his eyes widening as well.

"The book title and the page number a written neatly, while the rest of the writing is sloppy. Why would he bother writing a title and page number neatly? Unless; those were the things that were important; not the text?" Clara stated, rather pleased with herself. The Doctor patted her on the head smiling widely.

"Well done, Clara! You make a splendid detective!" The Doctor beamed. "John?" The Doctor turned his attention the Dr. Watson, who was still looking at the note. "Do you know where this book may be?" John bit down on his lip slightly and shook his head.

"Sherlock memorizes his music, but he does have a violin books stacked around here. We just need to find the right one," John stated, gesturing to the piles of books stacking up to the ceiling. Clara paled. This was going to be a while.


	3. Clues from the Hunted

_John_

John really wished it was possible to fly into their future where they already found the book. This was taking them forever and the longer they are at finding the clue the longer it will take to retrieve Sherlock before the Slitheen. Clara was sitting on Sherlock's chair, tossing books this way and that in frustration. She was a beautiful girl. She was wearing a denim jacket with a skirt and leggings. Her hair hung freely around her shoulders and her eyes shimmered as she flipped through the books. The Doctor was also very busy with the selection of books. He had probably gone through the most of them and had even stopped and skimmed through them. Normally John would have shouted at him that there was no time for reading, but he didn't say anything. He didn't need to. He was a fast reader after all. he had finished an entire book in just a blink of an eye. John turned away from the two mysterious people, realizing he had to start focusing on the matter at hand. He picked up a stack of books flipping them left and right until one caught his eye. The title was the same as what was printed on the sticky note.

"Found it!" John shouted, opening the book up to page 13. The Doctor and Clara rushed to his side, peering over his shoulder at the blank page. They frowned at it.

"It's just a bunch of dots and lines!" Clara stated, frowning at the paper. John instantly smiled.

"On the contrary," he stated, sitting down on his chair and scribbling on the paper with a pencil. "It's Morse code. Sherlock and I use it once and a while in certain situations." The Doctor and Clara watched as John quickly decoded the message, finding that it was very simple. Once he was finished he held up the paper for them all to see and they read the message to themselves.

**John, guessing you have gotten my message I'm guessing you have run into a green monster known to Unit as a Slitheen. I must tell you that I'm sorry for running off. Something is dangerously wrong and even though you have the heart for danger like what I deduced when we first met I couldn't risk you getting tied in on this, but now you have. You know where to find me and if you don't…well, think! I can't sit around freezing to death forever!"**

**-SH **

Clara frowned at the letter once done reading and looked to The Doctor, who simply shook his head. The two were now looking at John as he got up from his chair and grabbed his coat.

"He's at St. Bart's Hospital," John stated, pulling an arm through his coat. He rolled his eyes at the two time travelers when they simply just stared at him. "Sherlock's not very sentimental. He brought up little fragments of our first meeting in this letter and he never does that. Plus the morgue is freezing so I'm guessing that's where he is." The Doctor and Clara simply smiled at each other before bounding into the TARDIS. John watched them and glanced back at the letter. He hated this. What could that idiot have gotten himself into that would have an alien species hunting him?

"John?!" The Doctor shouted through the closed doors of the TARDIS. John let out a heavy sigh, dropping the letter to the floor and dashed into the time machine.

_Clara_

Clara and John walked through the halls of the TARDIS. She thought it would be for the best to get John to relax. The man was pale and looked like he was carrying the world on his back. He was very nice and funny. She remembered reading about John Watson and Sherlock Holmes when she was just a kid. Their adventures were amazing and many times she had day dreamed going on an adventure just like them. It looks like she got even more than what she had dreamed now. She had asked John about his cases with Sherlock and he didn't hold back on telling her about their many adventures. She found that the stories were a tad different from Doyle's writing, but it's only obvious that they would have to change the story a little so it would fit with the time they were stuck in…or…were going to be stuck in. Time travel was still confusing to her. She had no idea how the Doctor did it. Well…he had been doing this for over a thousand years now apparently.

"Clara?" John asked suddenly. Clara turned her attention to John, who had now finished his story and was now staring off into space. "These monsters that are hunting Sherlock…this is all real right? I'm not having some crazy dream right?" Clara stared at him, a smile leaking over her face.

"Hard to believe right?" she said, eyes twinkling. John ran a hand through his hair and smiled at her.

"And I thought that after spending several years with Sherlock I had seen it all. Now it looks like I've only seen a molecule of it," John stated, glancing around the TARDIS, taking in the many rooms. He was beginning to look a little better now. The color was draining back into his face and he had lost that terrified depressing expression.

"John, I'm sorry about Mycroft," Clara stated, regretting it instantly. Great…he was just calming down and she had to open her big mouth about his friend's brother's death. Stupid! John simply just shook his head and gave her a small smile.

"Don't apologize to me. Sherlock's the one I'm worried about. He and Mycroft hate each other, but Mycroft cared about him so maybe he does as well. I just don't know what to expect when I see him. I mean…he doesn't show emotions often and when he does its pretty much just boredom and all that." Clara stared at him for a long while. She wasn't sure what she should say. She never met Sherlock Holmes. John seems to know him better than anyone, judging on that statement. What could she say? John let out a shaky breath and smiled at her once again. "Sorry…I didn't mean to go all soppy depressed patient on you," John said, blushing slightly. Clara smiled at him, clapping him on the back.

"Don't worry about it John," she said, steering him back towards the control room.

The Doctor was exactly where they left him, buzzing about his machine and talking to it like she could speak back. He barely even noticed them when they entered the room. When Clara cleared her throat his head popped up and he stared at them with an excited look in his eyes.

"Oh, good! You're here! I was just about to get you two! We just landed!" The Doctor stated, fixing his bow tie and jogging towards the door in sprint of energy like a child at Christmas. John and Clara followed him, slightly slower and the Doctor swung the doors open wide. Clara felt a scream burst from her mouth as they came into the lab in St. Bart's. Green goo was all over the place and leaning up against a cupboard was a man with curly black hair sticking to his face from the goo. His clothes were half shredded and a long, bleeding cut scratched down his cheek and down his chest. His eyes were open, but they didn't seem to be focusing on anything in particular.

"Sherlock!" John screamed darting forward, but stopped short as a Slitheen stepped into view. Its green claws wrapped around Sherlock's neck and lifted the detective high into the air. Sherlock let out a shout as the creature's nails scraped his skin and cut of his breathing. The creature cackled as Sherlock struggled for breath. John bolted towards the two, but he slipped on the goo, falling face first into the floor. Another Slitheen burst from the doors of the morgue and came running at John. The Doctor went to his side, but Clara stayed where she was. What should she do? Help The Doctor and John fight of the Slitheen or help free Sherlock from the Slitheen trying to kill him?


	4. The Failed Rescue

_Clara_

Clara quickly sucked in a breath and lunged to John and The Doctor's side. The Doctor was trying to get John onto his feet, but the man only stared at Sherlock, calling out his name frantically. The Slitheen was coming at them. They had to do something and fast before it was too late. Clara looked around the morgue. It was covered in goo so Sherlock must have defended himself. She whirled around; searching for anything Sherlock could have used to blow up the Slitheen. Her eyes fell on a bottle not far away. It was half full of a clear liquid; vinegar. Clara glanced back at the Slitheen as it lifted its dreadful claws above John and The Doctor. There was no time to waste. As fast as her legs could carry her she ran to the middle of the room, seizing the bottle from the slop covered floor.

"Hey, Slitheen!" Clara shouted, pointing the bottle at the Slitheen threatening John and the Doctor. The creature glared at her, turning its massive hands towards her. "Have some vinegar!" Clara squeezed the trigger and vinegar shot from the tip, spattering her two friends and the creature. At first the Slitheen was still, looking at her with its big dark eyes and the next they were all being showered on by green gooey slop.

"Well done, Clara!" The Doctor shouted, lifting John finally to his feet without tripping. Clara smiled at him, but a horribly angry cry startled her. Oh, god! There was still one left! She turned, pointing the bottle at the monster clutching Sherlock, but the monster only squeezed the detective tighter.

"If you shoot me I can still break his twig of a neck!" the Slitheen hissed, holding Sherlock in front of it like a shield. Blood was spilling from Sherlock's mouth now and he was gasping for air. He no longer was wasting his energy on struggling. He looked limp in the monsters giant hands.

"Sherlock…" John croaked, trying to pull himself to his friend, but The Doctor shoved him back and stepped into the monsters view. The creature looked him up and down, hissing like a snake.

"Hello, Doctor." The Doctor was silent. All he did was stare at the alien with emotionless eyes. Clara felt her entire body shiver. If there was one thing in this entire universe that scared her more than anything it was The Doctor without emotion. He was always showing some kind of emotion. Sadness, glee, but right now there was nothing. There wasn't even anger. "We've been waiting. We knew you would come to his call." The Doctor furrowed his brows.

"Who's call? They don't even know me-"

"Oh, but he does!" the Slitheen spat, patting Sherlock on the head with a claw. "He's met you more than what you remember…or what you have lived so far." The Doctor's eyes widened as they fell to the paling detective. Sherlock's lips were beginning to turn a faint blue and his breathing now was just pained gasps, but his eyes were staring deep into The Doctor's. "You gave him something…something that not only we want, but the rest of the universe," the Slitheen added, running a long nail across Sherlock's bleeding face.

"What would that be?" the Doctor asked, slipping his sonic screwdriver from his pocket and behind his back. Clara and John stood back watching as the light from the object glistened. Whatever The Doctor was planning he better hurry.

"That's enough chit chat for now Doctor. It's time for us to be going-"

"Clara, NOW!" The Doctor called as the ceiling panels fell towards the Slitheen. Clara unfroze from her pose and shot the vinegar at the alien, hands shaking the whole time. The Slitheen screamed, making to crush Sherlock's neck when a tile fell down and smacked the detective harshly out of the Slitheen's hand. Once again the alien squealed. "I'm sorry," The Doctor whispered before the creature burst apart. Clara stumbled where she stood, but the Doctor caught her, brushing the green off her face.

"I did ok?" Clara asked, staring at the poor creatures burst all over the place. The Doctor took her head in his gentle hands and kissed her forehead.

"You were magnificent," he stated. Clara smiled up at him, but the smile lasted a matter of seconds. John was shouting in the distance, pulling the ceiling tiles off his friend's motionless body. Clara felt her heart stop. Had they come too late?

* * *

_John_

He let out shout of triumph as he lifted the tile from Sherlock's limb body and pulled the man onto his lap. Sherlock's body was battered and bruised. His lips were now a dark horrifying blue and his chest refused to rise. _"No, No, No!"_ John pleaded to himself mentally, pressing his hands against Sherlock's chest and pressing down. "Don't do this to me!" He quickened his presses, pleading that the stubborn detective would just breathe. He could hear The Doctor shouting at him, but everything but Sherlock was blocked from the world. He had to help him, he had to-

The Doctor finally shoved him away from Sherlock's body and set his hands against the detective's neck. John went to regain his position by his friend's side, but Clara grabbed him by the wrist. He looked up at her. Her eyes were a mix of tear and sadness for him. They glimmered with tears. He looked back at his friend as The Doctor scanned his body with that sonic screwdriver thing. The instrument made a faint noise and The Doctor's head fell. John's heart hammered in his chest. What was wrong? He was a Doctor. They were both Doctors. They had to do something! Why was he just sitting there?! John tried to pull away from Clara, but her tight gripped harder, keeping him where he was. John cried out in protest, but he was ignored. The Doctor whispered something to the still detective before pulling off his jacket and laying it over Sherlock's cold body.

"NO!" John screamed, ripping his hand from Clara's and thrashing himself onto Sherlock's body. He held the man close to him, screaming for him to open his eyes.

"Doctor…do something," he heard Clara whisper to The Doctor, but the man simply watched as John tried to revive his friend. "This can't happen…they…they've only just met you…they-"

"Time can be rewritten," The Doctor whispered.

"Aw, yes, but not this time stream," a low voice stated, from the doorway. Everyone looked up at the man standing in front of them. He wore a long dark coat and blue scarf. His hair was a swirl of black curls, but there were a few grey mixed in. John gave a gasp at the sight of Sherlock Holmes standing in front of him. The detective strutted over to his friend's side, kneeling down by him and pushing his younger self out of John's hands. John stared at him in shock and disbelief.

"Sherlock…" John croaked, lifting a hand to touch the detective's face. Sherlock didn't flinch away; he simply just stared into John's green eyes. The Doctor clapped his hands together in astonishment at the sight of the older Sherlock.

"How are you here?" the Doctor asked, looking over the old detective carefully. The older Sherlock looked up at The Doctor with a smile and pulled out a sonic screwdriver. It was not at all like the one The Doctor was holding now. This one looked like copper and the tip shimmered a purple light. There were far more settings and buttons on it as well. The Doctor held out his own screwdriver, touching it to the one Sherlock held. A popping sound sputtered as sparks flew from the two devices. "Two screwdrivers from different times! OH, that is brilliant!" the Doctor beamed, waving his hands in the air.

"You said that you would say that," Sherlock chuckled, fiddling with the screwdriver in his fingers. John simply stared at his flat mate. He must be at least three or five years older than his Sherlock. Maybe even a little more. He still had his looks, though and that blasted coat.

"But…this isn't right. You can't be here. You're…you're-"

"It's nice to see you again, Clara," Sherlock stated, smiling at her. Clara stared at him, her hands shaking.

"You're dead," she finished. The room was silent except for the clicking of the sonic screwdriver as it swished through the older Sherlock's fingers. Sherlock winked at her and looked down at his younger self.

"Are you sure?" he asked simply. Clara and John both frowned at him and he simply rolled his eyes as always. He stopped fiddling with his sonic screwdriver and ran it across his younger self's body. John's eyes widened in disbelief as the body began to flicker like a mirage and disappeared. "Just a simple projection." Sherlock smiled to himself and jumped up to his feet.

"But…but…" Sherlock took John by the hand and helped him to his feet. The old detective stared into the eyes of his young friend.

"John, you have to listen to me and you have to listen to me carefully," Sherlock stated, clutching John by the shoulders. The army doctor nodded, staring into the old blue eyes of his friend. "That was only an image of me to trick you. They have me at their hiding place now. They have what they've wanted and they will kill me." Sherlock's eyes were glistening now. John's heart clenched. No…that can't be right. Sherlock's older self was standing right in front of him. Sherlock licked his lips and thrust the sonic screwdriver into John's hands. "I need you to do something for me John." Sherlock stated, his voice was beginning to crack. John stared at the screwdriver thing in his hands and then back at his friend.

"Anything," John told him. A small laugh left Sherlock's mouth at that and he looked down, away from John's gaze. His shoulders were shaking slightly and John felt his heart clenching even tighter. "Sherlock…" Sherlock's head snapped up. His cool gaze was back.

"Let them…let them kill me."


	5. Blaidd Ddrwg

John

John couldn't believe his ears. They couldn't do that! They couldn't leave him to die! Was he insane?! John tightened his grip around Sherlock's fingers, but his friend's body was beginning to fade away. Sherlock glanced down at himself and swore.

"Looks like times up," Sherlock sighed, running a hand through his greying curls. He looked over at Clara and The Doctor, his face bare of all emotion. "Take care of him will you?" Clara and The Doctor both nodded and Sherlock's shoulders slumped in relief.

"Just one thing," The Doctor stated, stepping over to John's side. "What did I give you that the Slitheen want?" Sherlock's face fell and he shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. As long as you let them kill me it won't matter," Sherlock hummed stepping away from the three and disappearing into small dust specks. John felt his knees buckle from under him and grabbed the table at his side for support. How could Sherlock ask him of something like this? Why even? He covered his face with a hand, wishing that it was all just some bad dream.

"What do we do now?" Clara asked The Doctor. The Doctor stared off at where Sherlock once stood. A crazy grin painted carefully across his face. He turned to his three companions and nodded at the TARDIS.

"We go after him of course!" he stated, dashing into his amazing time machine. Clara shook her head, glancing at John.

"We shouldn't be doing this," she tried reasoning. "What he said…I don't think I've seen anyone look so scared in their lives." John stared at the TARDIS, tears still staining his face from before. Somewhere deep down inside him he knew she was right, but all he could do was think of Sherlock with some crazy aliens. He couldn't just leave his friend to die alone. Clara was a time traveler. She knew how these things worked better than he did, but he could never go back to Baker Street without Sherlock. Without a second thought he ran into the TARDIS, leaving Clara in the goo painted room all alone.

He walked over to the Doctor as he came into the TARDIS. The madman was furious with buttons and levers. He gave John a wide smile as he pulled one lever down hard and something bleeped on the screen. The Doctor stared at it for a second or two before shouting in triumph and scooting the screen over to John. John looked at the screen to see a faint little dot bleeping on the screen.

"What is that?" John asked, reaching a hand up to the screen. The Doctor made a giggly noise in his throat and quickly took the strange sonic devise from John. He plugged it into the council and a few bleeps and clicks later the screen dissolved and re-opened on a map. John's eyes widened. It couldn't be.

"That sonic screwdriver holds Sherlock's DNA. Using it we can track down the nearest Sherlock Holmes and the Slitheen. John felt a wave of hope come rolling down upon him. He couldn't believe it. He stared at the map for a second, finding that Sherlock was being held in an old un-used power plant in Cardiff. That probably wasn't a coincidence. John glanced over at the Doctor to see that the space man was frowning. "Blaidd Ddrwg Power plant…I stopped its production when the Slitheen were threatening to use it to blow up the Earth," stated the Doctor. John stared at him with wide eyes.

"Aliens were attempting to blow up the planet?!"

"Oh, don't look so surprised! Aliens have been attempting to blow up this planet before it was even created!" The Doctor stated, waving a hand carelessly at John. The good doctor frowned at the Time Lord and let out a small sigh. He was never going to get used to this.

* * *

_Clara_

Clara watched from the other side of the TARDIS as John and The Doctor stood around the council. They were speaking of how they should enter and various plans. Clara would have joined them, but she couldn't help but wonder why Sherlock had wanted to leave him to die. There had to be a good reason. He didn't seem like the kind of person who would do the whole – _it's too dangerous, just leave me_ - thing. Her heart was tugging in her chest, screaming for her to take John and The Doctor and runaway.

"_We never walk away."_ The Doctor's voice whispered plainly in her head. A smile fell over Clara and she closed her eyes. So that was it then. The Doctor was right. Walking away was something you never do when traveling with him.

"So where is our missing detective?" Clara asked as she joined the Time Lord and army doctor. An excited smile crossed The Doctor's face and he pushed the screen over to her. She looked down at it, noticing a blinking light on the screen. That must be Sherlock.

"Cardiff?" Clara exclaimed, wrinkling her nose. That seemed like the last place aliens would show up. The Doctor didn't seem to notice. He just zipped around pushing buttons and turning nobs. Clara let out a long sigh, and stared over at John. He was fiddling with the screwdriver the older Sherlock had left him before disappearing right in front of them. "How are you doing John?" she asked gently. John looked up at her, his fingers brushing the instrument slightly.

"I've been worse, but I've also been better," John sighed glancing back at the sonic screwdriver. "I just don't understand why he would give us this when he knows we would just use it to track him," he said holding the screwdriver out to her. Clara took it, looking it over carefully.

"Maybe that was the point, John. Maybe he does want us to find him," Clara thought out loud.

The TARDIS rumbled as they suddenly came to a stop, landing a little shakily. John and Clara clutched the railing, trying to keep themselves from being flung across the TARDIS. They each gave each other a look and looked over towards the doors. The Doctor was already out of the ship. The two companions chased after him, gasping as they came face to face with the old power plant.

"Well, this shouldn't take long," Clara huffed, walking up to the front doors of the building.

"Clara, no!" But The Doctor was too late. The floor opened up from under her and Clara fell down through the trap doors. The two doctors stared at the place where Clara once stood. Hearts beating fast. Now they had two they had to save.


	6. Found

Clara

Clara slowly lifted herself from the cold and very dusty floor. Every bone in her body ached.

"Clara?" a raspy voice called from behind. The impossible girl twirled around, meeting the piercing blue eyes of a man she had seen strangled by a Slitheen only minutes ago. His raven black curls were matted and bloody, but they weren't streaked with grey. This must me the young version of Sherlock, the one they've been searching for. His long majestic coat is tattered and he looks like he's been without sleep since he went missing.

"Sherlock? Sherlock, John and The Doctor are here. We're going to get you out of here," Clara reassured him, gently taking his ice cold fingers. Sherlock stared at her in a dazed look, shaking his head.

"No, you have to leave. The Slitheen…they…they can't have it," Sherlock slurred. Clara frowned, shaking him by the shoulders as his head lolled to the side. He looked just like he did when Clara had looked at the projection. Well, except for the bluing lips. The scratches were deep, but it looked like most of the bleeding had stopped.

"Wake up!" Clara screamed, smacking him hard against his injured cheek. Sherlock bolted upright, hand flying to his reddening cheek. Clara clutched his shoulders, staring deeply into his eyes. "Now you listen up. We are not leaving you behind. There is nothing more important than a life," Clara shouted. The detective smiled at her grimly.

"Nothing more important than a life, huh?" Sherlock mused, shaking his head lightly. "Even when another life is in jeopardy if the Slitheen get it?" Clara froze, her hands slipping from his shoulders.

"Who's life?" Sherlock shook his head, pulling himself up to his feet. Clara held him up as his legs buckled from under him. "Whoa, take it easy," Clara gasped, leaning him against the wall. She glanced at his ankle, noticing the chains wrapped around it to keep him from escaping. Clara fumbled for the bobby pin in her hair and began fiddling with the lock. For aliens they sure didn't have very good locks.

"Why should I take it easy when I've been doing everything but easy since those things came after me?" Sherlock croaked, rubbing a hand against his face.

"Because if you die John is going to kill me," Clara told him, shaking off the chains and slipping her pin back into her hair. That earned her a soft chuckle and she felt the atmosphere clear a little. Once her hair was pinned back again she jumped to her feet and began scanning the dark room. "I'm guessing you've already searched for a way out?" Sherlock nodded, pointing at a air vent above them.

"I used that to escape, but the Slitheen have guards in every room the vent leads to now," Sherlock hissed.

"Well, then we better not get caught then," Clara said, pushing some old furniture below the vent and climbing up. Sherlock frowned at her as she loosened the screws and pulled the cover off the vent. Clara glanced down at him. "Oh, come on. With The Doctor and John running around out there they'll be too busy trying to catch them to worry about watching every single vent in this place." A smile stretched across Sherlock's face.

"I see why The Doctor likes you."

* * *

John

"Watch out!" John called shooting at the Slitheen before it could hit The Doctor with its claws. The creature blew up into an explosion of goo as the vinegar touched its green skin. They were deep in the heart of the power plant now and they still had no luck with finding their friends.

"Come on!" The Doctor grumbled, smacking the devise the older Sherlock had left them. It was sending them all over the place. The little dot that had been blinking on the screen was moving. At first they had just thought it was broken, but then they figured that maybe Sherlock had escaped or the Slitheen were moving him. The only problem was that if he was really moving then he could walk through walls and jump down three stories of stairs.

"Doctor, which way do we go?" John barked, pointing the bottle at the shut door behind them. Slitheen were pounding at the doors, trying to break through. The Doctor grumbled to himself, glaring at the screen as it bleeped and buzzed. "Doctor!"

"I don't know!" The Doctor shouted in frustration, his bow tie, tilting slightly. "According to the screen you should be standing on them!" John glanced at the screen and then down on his feet.

"Geronimo!" called a scream from above. John looked up in time to see Clara fall from the air vent and land right on top of him. He gasped in pain by the added wait and watched as Clara jumped up, hugging The Doctor tight.

"Clara! Oh, my Clara. How did you escape and you know that's my catchphrase right?" The Doctor stated, pouting slightly. Clara laughed at him, straitening his bow tie.

"Oh, I had a little help." Clara looked back over to the air vent. "Sherlock, come down the cost is clear!" John jumped out of the way as his missing friend tumbled from the vent and onto the floor. He let out a soft moan, rubbing his injured head gently.

"Sher…Sherlock?" John gasped, staring at his best friend. Sherlock pulled himself back onto his shaky legs and smiled at his doctor.

"Hello, John," he sighed, turning his gaze to The Doctor. "Nice to see you again, Doctor." The Doctor simply stared at the detective, awe written across his face. Sherlock's gaze didn't hold a smile for long. His eyes fell on the screwdriver The Doctor was still fiddling with and his eyes darkened.

"Sherlock, what's wrong?" John asked, reaching a hand out to touch Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock shook him away and glared at them with fierce blue eyes.

"Why…why do you have that?" Sherlock gasped, rage making his shoulders tremble. The Doctor held up the screwdriver to the light and shrugged.

"It was given to us by-"

"My future self, yes, I know. Why is it here?! If they get their hands on it-"

"Wait, Sherlock, slow down. What's the matter?" Clara asked, taking the screwdriver from The Doctor. Sherlock bit down on his lip and stared at the object and Clara for a long time. He took a few steps back, running his hand through his hair.

"That object is the second piece that they have been torturing me for," he hissed. Everyone frowned at him in confusion. Sherlock rolled his eyes and glared at Clara's direction, taking the screwdriver from her hands. He flipped it open and The Doctor's eyes widened at the sight of the green bars blinking faintly on the screwdriver. He had seen those once before. John glanced at Clara noticing the same look of surprise as well. The Doctor had told her the story once about when he had first met his wife in a library and saved her to a computer.

"Sherlock, who…who did you and my future-self save to the screwdriver that the Slitheen want so much?" The Doctor asked. Sherlock remained silent.

"Who's life were you giving your life up for?" Clara asked. A pained expression crossed Sherlock's face and he turned away from them. "Sherlock-"

"It was you!" Sherlock shouted in agitation, glaring at Clara. Everyone paled, and Clara looked like she was about to be ill.

"I'm dead?"


	7. Past and Future Revealed

Clara

She really felt like she was going to be ill. Her mind was swimming from the news Sherlock just dumped on her. Her life was being held inside a screwdriver?!

"Sherlock, start explaining," The Doctor ordered, glaring at the detective. Sherlock's shoulders slunk and he really looked tired.

"When I first met you, Doctor, you were far older than you are now. I was just a kid. You had given me a time and a date to show up in the future. He told me I would find you again. So ten years later I found myself being chased by monsters that blew up at the touch of vinegar. I met you and Clara at the spot where you had told me ten years before. We worked together and saved the world from the Slitheen, but it ended up being short-lived. A surviving Slitheen popped out of nowhere and lunged itself at me, but Clara got in the way and she…" Sherlock trailed off, staring at Clara with a strange expression on his face. "The Doctor couldn't lose you so he saved you in two different screwdrivers to keep you safe. I was given one screwdriver and he took the other. I kept it safe for years. I was even able to hide it from Lestrade and John, but the Slitheen found me. They were going to take the screwdrivers and kill Clara as pay back."

"Why didn't you tell me?" John asked. Sherlock shook the curls from his eyes.

"I didn't want to pull you down with me, but just in case the Slitheen attacked you I left notes for you to be able to find me and sent a note to The Doctor…the wrong Doctor I now realize, but that doesn't matter. Time travel is confusing to control. I was captured and brought here, where you found me and brought the other half of the screwdriver. The one you have is The Doctor's, which I would love to know how I got my hands on it. Anyway, the Slitheen have my half and if they get your half they can bring Clara back and kill her for good this time." Everyone was silent. Clara felt like her heart was pounding out of her chest. She was dead…almost dead and now a part of her was in the clutches of those green blobs. The Doctor ran a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth.

"We need to get the other half of Clara back," The Doctor stated.

"Agreed, but first we need to get the other half somewhere safe," Sherlock stated, glancing out one of the windows. "Mycroft is probably the only one we can trust at the moment so…" Sherlock trailed off as he noticed the pained and saddened expressions on his friends' faces.

"Sherlock…"

"John, what's wrong? What's happened?" Sherlock asked, his eyes going frantic, looking over John in attempt to read it off of him. John lowered his head and Clara felt his pain.

"Mycroft is dead."

* * *

John

John felt his heart stop when Sherlock's frantic eyes dimmed to a faded blue. The battered detective stumbled slightly, backing up against the closed window reaching to the outside. John reached out to him, but he simply slapped away his hands. John felt his heart clenching harder and harder. He had been afraid of this. He had worried about Sherlock's response to the dreadful news. He never understood the Holmes brothers' relationship, but they both must care for each other in some odd way. He waited for Sherlock to rant or to try and cover up his emotions. He waited, ready for anything Sherlock my throw at him.

"That idiot!" Sherlock explained, running a hand through his hair. Well, that was not expected. "He's such a hypocrite. I fake my death and he threatens to kill me, but when he fakes his death I should just take it like it's no big deal!" Sherlock grumbled, glaring out the window in the corner of his eye. Everyone stared at Sherlock in confusion once again. He was refusing to believe it. That was a natural case in this situation, but John never thought that his friend would try to refuse the truth.

"Sherlock, we saw-"

"What? You saw him unzip his head and turn into a Slitheen?" Sherlock stated, staring at John with blue eyes once again. John frowned at him, nodding slightly.

"How did you know?" Clara asked. Sherlock grinned at her and pointed at the airshaft.

"When they were torturing me in order for me to tell them about the screwdriver they had that Slitheen come in looking like Mycroft. I knew it wasn't him as soon as I saw it. His hair was a shade darker and he was a bit thinner than my elder brother. Mycroft had left them a decoy. He's probably hiding out at our family estate. The skin suit you saw was probably one of Mycroft's many lookalikes," Sherlock explained.

"Sherlock?" John called, changing the subject. The detective turned to John and the good doctor took in a deep breath. "Why did you want us to leave you then? Leaving you there wouldn't change what happened to Clara." Sherlock smirked to himself.

"My older self-gave you the screwdriver to find the other half. He told you not to come for me because-"

"Shh!" The Doctor shushed, eyes flying around the room.

"Doctor-"

"Shh…" The Doctor's eyes fell on the door. "They've been oddly quiet haven't they?" Everyone stared at the door, realizing that The Doctor was correct. The pounding and shouting had ended and now only silence filled the room.

"ACK!" Glass shattered from the window Sherlock had been standing by and two green claws wrapped around his slender body. They all gasped in surprise by the sudden attack and before they had the chance to pull out the vinegar the Slitheen and ripped Sherlock from the room and thrown him towards the cement several flights down.


	8. Men in Black to the Rescue

John

Clara let out an earsplitting shriek as Sherlock's body plummeted towards the ground. John covered his eyes. He couldn't watch this. Not again. Not after the last time. He waited to hear the sound of shattering bone on pavement, but only the sound of screeching tires filled his ears. Curiously, he opened his eyes, staring wide eyed out the window. A black vehicle was speeding towards Sherlock now, a young man jumping out of the sunroof and standing atop the car with his arms held out. The car quickened it's pace and John felt as though his heart was about to snap out of his chest. They weren't going to make it! Sherlock was falling too quickly. Then, with a quick slam on the brake the man flew off the hood of the car and towards Sherlock, wrapping his arms tightly around the detective and pulling him into a roll before hitting the ground. They rolled into the ditch and men evacuated the vehicle, shooting at the Slitheen hiding outside the window on a ladder and several other Slitheen exiting the station.

"Geronimo!" The Doctor shouted, jumping from the window and climbing down the ladder. Clara and John followed close behind, keeping their heads low as bullets flew left and right. Once they hit the ground John shot towards Sherlock and the man that had jumped off the car. They were picking themselves off the ground when John and the time travelers finally reached them.

"Sherlock?" Sherlock, are you alright?" John gasped, helping his friend up. Sherlock leaned against John, dizzy from the fall. His skin was scraped up and his clothes were ripped, but it looked like he had sustained any fatal injuries. The other man was being inspected by The Doctor, who seemed to be congratulating the man for his courageousness and sheer idiocy of jumping off a car at full speed.

"How many times must I tell you to leave me for dead?" Sherlock grumbled, rubbing at the cut on his head. John pulled Sherlock's hands away before he could make the wound any worse.

"Until the day I die," John told him. A pained expression crossed Sherlock's usually stoic face then. John tried to look into the eyes of his friend, but Sherlock turned his face away. That's when John realized the shaking. It was small, but you could still make out the faint shutter of Sherlock's shoulders. "Sherlock-"

"Mr. Holmes, I am sorry to interrupt, but your brother wishes to speak with you immediately," the man who had jumped off the car stated, butting into their conversation. Sherlock looked up then, clear of all emotion, but John could still see something hidden deep behind the eyes.

"Yes, Reginald, I think he made that clear when he sent you and your team in here guns blazing," Sherlock spat, still leaning on John for support. The man called Reginald straightened up a bit, nodding at the car rolling into view now. Sherlock made to take a step towards it, but his feet buckled from under him. John caught him again with some help from The Doctor. The consulting detective blinked a few times, clearing his eyes as best he could, but he was too dizzy from his head wounds. John stared at his friend as he swayed on his feet. They needed to get him taken care of, NOW.

* * *

Clara

Clara and the others got into the car, leaning Sherlock against the window so he could rest. He had been through so much already it was insane. Clara had a feeling that Sherlock had not told them everything that had happened to him when he was attacked by the Slitheen, but she didn't blame him. The things that could have happened were probably too horrible to look back on.

"Are you alright, Clara?" The Doctor asked, noticing her staring at Sherlock. She looked up at him, smiling a small smile.

"Awe, you know me, Doctor, I'm always fine," Clara reassured him, punching him in the shoulder playfully. The Doctor smiled at her, giving her the look. She hated that look. It was the- _"I know you are lying"_- look. She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Doctor, I'm fine. Sherlock is the one we should be worried about." The young girl yelped, waving a hand at the detective as his he slept soundly with his head against the window and John, rubbing a hand up and down his back in circles. The Doctor's eyes scanned over the battered detective for a moment or two and then found their way back to Clara's.

"Yes, but you just found out you die in the future, Clara. You must be terrified," The Doctor sighed, holding a hand out to her. She took it, squeezing it lightly.

"I am, but I know you'll find a way to save me," she said with a kind smile. A quirky smile fell over The Doctor's lips then and the thick intensity in the vehicle seemed to sift away.

"Quiet right," was all he said before pulling the screwdriver into his hands and looking over it intently. Clara watched as his eyes looked over every little aspect of it, trying to find something that could help him access a way to bring Clara back fully. She felt her heart tighten at the sight. She knew he would never stop and for that she was thankful. The Doctor always looked out for her, just like she had done for him. Her eyes fell on John and Sherlock. In a way they were all very similar. They all looked out for each other. They would do anything for each other. They were the heroes of the universe some had said, but really they were just friends looking out for one another.


	9. Welcome to Holmes Manor

Clara

The manor was insanely beautiful. It stood just a little ways out of London, hidden by tall willow and cherry trees. A garden of roses peaked out the back of the house, reavealing that their hedges had been made into a maze. Several men stood in the garden, pulling weeds and clipping the hedges. Another group of men were standing by a small orchard just a ways away, plucking the fruit from the green trees. Boy, these Holmes boys were rich beyond compare. Clara glanced at Sherlock, who was now partially awake and leaning against John for support. Why would a man with so much money live in a flat or even need a flat mate to help pay for it? It didn't make any sense.

Two butlers stood at the edge of the steps dressed in suits as they waited for the arrival of the group. When the car finally stopped a butler opened the door for them, allowing them to exit. Sherlock stumbled on his way out, pressing his drowsy body against John's for support. The butler bowed his head to Sherlock, gesturing to the oak doors just resting above the stairs.

"Master Holmes is awaiting your arrival in the lounge, Sir," the butler stated smoothly. Sherlock nodded and they climbed the stairs, entering through the perfectly carve doors. The place was even more magnificent on the inside. Sculptured were carved skillfully into the oak wood that lined the place and to stair cases led up into each other to the next floor. The butler from before led them into a lovely sitting room with black couches and a chair prompt by the wide windows that almost stretched to the floor. A fire place crackled on the side of the wall, its top covered in old family photos. Most of them were of two young boys sitting in the cherry trees. There was no sign of any other residence to the house.

"Awe, little brother, I hope you are well," a deep voice called from the window.

"Yes, but I do wish the Slitheen had actually made and attempt to rid you from this world. For being with a better knowledge than we them apparently cannot tell your arrogance from just a simple employee," Sherlock snapped, glaring at his older brother. Clara glanced between the two brothers, feeling a bit Closter phobic in the room now.

"You always have been so resentful, Dear brother. At least I had revealed myself not long after my faked death, unlike you who had waited how long? Three years?" Sherlock's teeth gritted together as he stared daggers into his brother, but the elder Holmes simply kept a stern face, looking down at them all.

"You know exactly why I had to be in hiding that long, Mycroft," Sherlock snapped.

"Alright! Cool it down you two!" John shouted, shifting Sherlock's heavy body as he tried to help hold the detective up. "We have much more important matters to discuss other than you two's brotherly love." Mycroft's eyes flicked over John looking the soldier over.

"Doctor Watson, Please escort my Brother to his room will you. Stanley will lead you there," Mycroft stated and the butler from before walked over to the other doorway in the sitting room. John and Sherlock followed the butler and they disappeared out of the room, leaving the Doctor and Clara alone with the British Government.

* * *

John

Sherlock's childhood home was amazing at the first glance, but John instantly knew why the detective had moved out and into Baker Street just in that one look. It wasn't because of Mycroft, but because of the loneliness. The house only had butlers and workers on it. There were no neighbors close by and from the look on the picture on the wall no other family to visit. Sherlock would never admit to his loneness of course, but John could still see it in Sherlock's eyes sometimes.

"First aid is in the bottom drawer," Sherlock muttered as he stumbled into his bed. The room looked far too grown up for the room a child. There were no toys thrown around the floor. There were only books about science and math. Clothes were folded neatly away and the room was dust free. On a desk in the corner sat a journal, a few notebooks, and a few science supplies. It even looked like one of the experiments was still growing. Once John was positive Sherlock was not going to faint on him he made his way to the bathroom branching off the bedroom. The bathroom was stacked full of perfectly folded blue towels and other supplies. In the bottom drawer a small white case rested. John picked it up, carrying it to the detective lying with his back flat against the mattress. The good doctor sat down at the edge of the bed, and began to dab at Sherlock's dirty face. Dried blood clung to the detectives face and dark curls. The sight of the blood running across Sherlock's face made him want to cringe, but he held himself together. Sherlock was alright now. He was alive and he was safe. Sherlock stared of in the distance as John worked, not making the smallest sound.

"Sherlock," John called, hands stopping just above the large cut running down the detective's face. Sherlock hummed softly and John bothered at his bottom lips with his teeth. "Why did you want us to leave you for dead? I know you must have your reasons, but please Sherlock. No more secrets." Sherlock kept staring off into the distance, but John knew the detective had heard him. His hands were shaking slightly now. John set down the cloth and pressed a hand to his friend's shoulder. "Sherlock-"

"I can't, John. I've already told too much of the future for you and the others. Anyway, If you knew the truth I don't know how you'd handle it. I can hardly handle it myself," Sherlock whispered, in a hushed voice. John's eyes widened then. Did Sherlock Holmes just admit to feeling emotions? This had to be bigger than what John had originally thought for sure now. "I didn't mean to find the Doctor's diary all those years ago, but I did and I read it. Something's going to happen, John, and it's my entire fault." John squeezed the detective's shoulder a little tighter, not knowing what else to do. This was a side of Sherlock John had never seen before. The detective actually looked distressed. John wanted to help, but what could he do when he didn't know what was wrong? Sighing, he began to clean Sherlock's wounds again. He couldn't help Sherlock yet, but he could still help him by getting him back on his feet.


	10. Truths Revealed

Clara

They were silent at first, swaying uncomfortably in front of the stare of Mycroft Holmes. The elder Holmes seemed far darker and mysterious than his little brother. He didn't seem like the kind to anger either.

"Mycroft Holmes! Blimey! I never thought I'd get the chance to see Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes, but now we're getting the whole package. Oh, that's right you haven't met me yet I suppose. I show up in your future when your brother and Doctor Watson…well, you don't want to know about that do you. It's all guns, murders, and wibbly wobbly stuff…"

"Doctor, I'm afraid I must stop you. I met you when I was younger. When you finally brought my little brother back to me so battered he was in hospital for days," Mycroft snapped. The Doctor's happy go lucky buzz died instantly and he raised a brow at the older Holmes. Mycroft gritted his teeth together, losing his composure. "After that last little incident with the Slitheen you brought my little brother back covered in someone else's blood! We fixed his wounds up and brought him home, but something was wrong. He isolated himself and wouldn't even talk to me! I put up surveillance video and sent body guards with him just so he would never run into you again, but here he is with you once again! He looks like he was someone's chew toy and here you stand just like before, raving about how exciting everything is! I see where he gets it from every time he's on a case. It's all because of you! You took him from me! You mad him what he is! You…" Mycroft trailed off, running a hand through his hair and taking a few deep breaths. "Never mind. It's not going to do any good shouting now. You are back and Slitheen are trying to capture my little brother once again." Everyone was silent then. Clara could see The Doctor's dark expression in the corner of her eye.

"Right!" The Doctor shouted, turning away and walking over to the fireplace, staring at the photos. "The Slitheen have been trying to get the two pieces of the sonic screw driving holding future Clara's life force. They have one now, but we have the other. If we can get back into the plant and recover it then I can sync the screwdrivers together and return Clara back to her former self. We can then call my older-self using the screwdrivers," The Doctor summed up. Clara's eyes widened.

"You want to go back?! Doctor, it's too dangerous!" Clara cried. The Doctor stared into the fire, light bouncing off his old eyes.

"Nothing is too dangerous when you are trying to save a friend, Clara," he whispered, smiling at her sadly. Clara's shoulders slumped then and her head lowered to her chest. He blamed himself more than anyone else here for everything that has happened. Clara could see it. It wasn't his fault. It was her choice to follow him and it was Sherlock's choice to go off and find him.

"Let's do it," John's voice called from the doorway. Everyone looked up at him to see that he was alone. "But Sherlock must not come with us."

* * *

John

Sherlock had fallen asleep shortly after John had finished dressing his wounds and tossing out his tattered clothes. He had then decided to go and make sure Mycroft had not sent The Doctor and Clara away to some alien experimental lab or something. When he got the Doctor was going on about traveling back to the power plant. John didn't think it was a good idea to go back so suddenly either, but he wanted to help. He needed to help Sherlock and Clara. Finding the other screwdriver was the only way.

"How is Sherlock?" Clara asked, fiddling with her fingers nervously. He had looked pretty beaten up back there. She was worried for the poor man. John gave her a reassuring smile.

"He's fine, but he's hiding something from me. He told me he had read your diary, Doctor, out of curiosity and read something. Whatever it is it's bad enough to cause him to think that what happened was his fault. I don't want him coming back with us and getting any more hurt than he already has been." The group nodded, turning to Mycroft, who was still debating whether or not to allow it.

"Please, Mr. Holmes. We need to do this," Clara pleaded. Mycroft looked up at her then, giving a small nod. Clara smiled and turned towards the front door. "Let's find the screwdriver then!" she called, racing from the doorway. The Doctor followed her, but John stayed behind, turning to Mycroft.

"John…" Mycroft trailed off as John pulled a small leather book from behind his back. His eyes widened at the small book. "What are you doing with Sherlock's journal?" Mycroft snapped, furry burning in his eyes. John looked down at the book.

"When Sherlock fell asleep I looked through it, thinking that maybe he had written what he had read in the Doctor's diary down. I was right. I found it right away and he was right that I wouldn't want to know," John croaked, he could feel hot tears burning his eyes. "But that's all going to be alright now because Sherlock won't be coming with us. I gave him enough sleeping pills to keep him out until long after we return," he reassured Mycroft. The elder Holmes held his hand out for the journal and John handed it to him. John then turned away towards the door, but Mycroft grabbed his wrist.

"What did he read in that diary?" Mycroft asked. John lowered his eyes from the elder Holmes' gaze.

"He read about me, Mycroft. It's all about me."


	11. Too Easy

Clara

They slowly climbed through the broken window they had earlier escaped through. The wind blew right through Clara as she stood by it. She shivered, pulling her jacket closer to herself and glanced around the completely silent room. The building looked abandoned, but they all knew that was far from true. The Doctor held his sonic screwdriver out, hoping that it will be able to lead them to its twin. Purple beamed down the hall from the screwdrivers light and a soft buzzing sound echoed through the wide halls. The screwdriver bleeped suddenly and A wide smile spread across The Doctor's face. He straightened his bow tie and zipped around the corner without a word. John and Clara followed close behind, running with him. Clara glanced at John as they ran. Something seemed wrong. He looked upset in some way. His eyes were far away and his lip was cut from where he must have bit down on it too hard. She doubted that it was just because Sherlock was at home hurt. Clara had been read every Sherlock Holmes story her parents could find and in all of them Holmes had gone on life threatening adventures. John should be used to the dangers by now so what was bothering him so much? She had heard Mycroft and him whispering when they left. Whatever they had said it had affected John greatly. Maybe Mycroft had said something just as cruel to John as he had done to The Doctor. It had taken every ounce of her strength not to lash out and slap him.

"Here we are!" The Doctor called, pointing the screwdriver at one of the doors darn the dark tunneling hallways. Several locks held the door shut, but they were no match for The Doctor. He pressed the instrument to the lock and a buzzing noise echoed throughout the room. The door squeaked open then and the three slowly entered. John held his gun tightly in his hand as they looked around. Clara was surprised that The Doctor had not said anything to John about the firearm yet. The Doctor was never one for guns or violence. Usually he would snap at the users or take it away, flinging it across the room.

Farther into the room sat a handful of papers and files. Computers bleeped and buzzed, showing several photos of The Doctor and Clara in the streets. Jeez, when Slitheen want to find you they go all out with the stalking. Some of the photos were from their future she noticed, looking closer to the dates in the corners. The Doctor pulled the plug on the computers, waving a finger at Clara.

"None of that. Knowing your future is not always a good thing, Oswin," The Doctor informed her. Clara nodded, deciding that he was right. Well, he was always right…most of the time. Just as they came to a small shelf in the corner of the room the screwdriver went berserk and a faint purple glow burst from the corners of a wooden box. They opened the tiny box and were filled with joy as they stared inside. Sitting on soft velvet sat a screwdriver exactly like the one the older Sherlock Holmes had given them. John frowned as he picked up the screwdriver, glancing at the others. Clara knew what he was thinking. This was way too easy. Something was wrong. Where were all the Slitheen? Last time they snuck in the place was crawling with them and why would they leave the screwdriver unprotected when they knew The Doctor was searching for it? It all seemed too fishy.

Buzz!

John grabbed his phone, lifting it to his ear. Clara could hear a frantic voice on the other end and John's eyes widened in terror. When he finally lowered the phone he bolted from the power plant. The Doctor and Clara exchanged a look of worry, following him out.

"John, what's wrong? What's happened?!" The Doctor called out to him. John stopped in his tracks turning to them.

"Mycroft's people just called me. The Slitheen have surrounded Holmes manor and Sherlock is still out cold!"

* * *

John

"John, calm down!" The Doctor shouted, grabbing him before he could run off. John tried to pull away, frantic to go after his friend. This was his fault. How could John have been so blind? He had been trying so hard to change the future that he had left Sherlock alone and defenseless. Now Slitheen were attacking Holmes Manor and he was completely defenseless. He made to run again, but the Doctor's shouts stopped him cold. "John! Just think!" The Doctor cried. John turned then, staring at The Doctor with frightened eyes. His heart was beating out of his chest at an alarming speed, making his stomach twist and bile rise in the back of his throat.

"I left my best friend drugged alone, Doctor! I need to help him before he gets hurt."

"But it's a trap. They want the two screwdrivers!" The Doctor argued. John's face fell into a hateful frown and his hands balled into fists at his sides.

"How can you even consider not helping him?! He's your companion!" John shouted, rage bubbling through him like a wild fire. The Doctor held a hand out at Clara then, who was now staring at the two of them with sad eyes.

"So is she! If they get their claws on the screwdrivers then I risk losing her!" The Doctor shouted. He looked terrified at the thought, but John didn't care.

"Then just be careful! Please, Doctor, I…I can't lose him again," John cried, feeling like he was being torn apart. He slid down the side of the wall, burying his face in his hands as the tears burned his eyes. He could just picture Sherlock now, the thin detective sleeping soundly in his bed. Glass shattering from the window and big green claws protruding through. He could hear Mycroft scream out to his brother as he busted down the bedroom door. The elder Holmes would be too late though. The Slitheen would grab Sherlock by the throat, breaking his neck and dropping him to the floor for Mycroft to weep at. And where would John be? Here; all because The Doctor. The Time Lords shoulders slumped and he kneeled down to John. John pulled away. He didn't want The Doctor's pity. He understood why The Doctor refused to just run in, but this was Sherlock back there. They can just leave him!

"I have an idea," Clara offered. The two looked at her with a look of supplies. The impossible girl walked over to the two, kneeling down by their side. Her hands took the screwdrivers and a wide smile spread across her face. "Don't worry, John. Everything will be alright."


	12. Time Runs Its Course

John

John burst through the manor doors, ducking his head as would splintered from where his foot had collided with its frame. After just taking a few steps inside he was horrified to find Mycroft's agents lying dead against the floor. Their necks had all been snapped and some had even been suffocated by the giant monsters. Mycroft was pinned to the wall in the sitting room, struggling as hard as he could and calling out to someone only a small distance away. John's eyes fallowed Mycroft's and his heart clenched. Sherlock was lying on the floor surrounded by Slitheen. He was partially awake, but not enough to protect himself. John shouted out at Sherlock, earning the many eyes of the green creatures. They chuckled at him cruelly, running their claws down Sherlock's pale skin and opening up a thin long red line down his face. Sherlock moaned under the pain, but he was so drugged that's all he could manage to do. Clara and The Doctor finally made their way in, holding the bottles of vinegar in their hands and breathing heavy.

"Give us the screwdrivers and we shall let the detective go," hissed a Slitheen.

"Never!" The Doctor spat, clutching the screwdrivers in his hands. The Slitheen shrugged its huge shoulders and clasped its claws around Sherlock's throat, pulling him from the floor and into the air. Sherlock gasped, trying to choke down a breath, but the big green hand was crushing his airway.

"We know you, Doctor, you would never risk the life of one of your companions," hissed the Slitheen. The Doctor gritted his teeth together, glancing at the screwdriver and then to Sherlock, whose lips were starting to go blue. Visions of Sherlock dying in St. Bart's sent tears burning John's face. Oh, God! It was going to happen for real this time! Sherlock was going to die!

"Doctor, do it," Clara whispered, squeezing his shoulder gently. "It's ok. You and I have are fun, but your time with Sherlock has only just begun." The Doctor nodded solemnly and chucked the screwdrivers at the Slitheen, keeping his head low. The Slitheen grabbed the screwdrivers, dropping Sherlock. The consulting detective gasped for air as he hit the floor and John rushed to his side, rubbing a hand gently against his friends back in attempt to help calm him. They also dropped Mycroft and now stood off to the side grinning widely.

"What's so funny?" John spat, pulling Sherlock's arm over his shoulder and hoisting the detective to his feet. Sherlock gasped as a flash of pain spread through his head at the quick movement, but he bit his bottom lip to push back the pain. The Slitheen all began to cackle and one lifted a strange looking remote with a big threatening button on it.

"We have the manor littered with explosives. It appears we have the upper hands," the Slitheen hissed. Mycroft's eyes widened as he looked around the manor. John gritted his teeth and the creature slammed its green fist against the button. "Farewell, Doctor!" the Slitheen chuckled before being beamed up to their ship. Just as they left the manor shook and fires blazed up through the doors and windows. Clara let out a shriek at the sudden explosion and The Doctor wrapped an arm around her.

"Everyone out!"

* * *

Clara

They ran down the halls, fire burning all around them and beams falling heavily to the floors. Mycroft pushed the door open, and the fled through it. Smoke billowed from behind them and flames licked up at their clothes, but they all still made it out alright. Clara sighed, glancing around only to see that not all of them had made it out alright.

"Where are John and Sherlock?" Clara gasped, looking around frantically. Mycroft's eyes widened as he looked back to the manor and The Doctor threw himself through one of the windows, back inside the burning building. Clara made to follow him, but Mycroft grabbed her before she could get anywhere. She pulled away harshly and threw herself after her Doctor. She looked around, eyes stinging from the thick smoke, but she soon caught a glimpse of that ridiculous bow tie. She rushed over gasping when she saw John pinned under the fallen stair railing. Sherlock was lying next to him, trying to free his friend.

"He…pushed me out of the way," Sherlock croaked, looking sick with worry. The Doctor kneeled down pushing the railing from John's body. The railing was not all that heavy, but Sherlock had been drugged after all. It wasn't his fault he was to weary to lift it off his friend. The Doctor swung John over his shoulder and Clara wrapped Sherlock's arm over her so he could lean against her for support.

"Let's get out of here!" The Doctor screeched, running forward. Clara and Sherlock followed, stumbling over the rubble. When they finally found their way back out Mycroft was at their side, along with a handful of policemen and an ambulance.

"John!" Sherlock coughed, watching as an air mask was pushed onto his friend's face. John's head rolled to the side and Sherlock bit his tongue when he saw how much blood was flowing from his friend's head. The detective fell to his knees, eyes wide. His mask shattering to pieces. Clara pulled Sherlock into her, realizing that he was in shock. Mycroft stood next to them, hand clasped over his face as he took in deep breaths. "It's happening," Sherlock whimpered, burying his face in Clara's shoulder. She shushed him, running a gentle hand through his hair. What was he going on about? Was it just the shock talking or was there something she didn't know about? She glanced up at Mycroft, who was now holding a journal in his hands. It was partially burnt, but you could still read the writing scribbled on it. It looked almost like a child's writing.

"What is that?" Clara asked, rocking the detective back and forth in her arms. Mycroft, flipped to the page John had shown him earlier.

"It's Sherlock's journal," Mycroft whispered. "He…learned a secret he was never meant to know when he first began traveling with The Doctor. He wrote it down in here," the usually cold man croaked.

"What does it say?" Clara asked, remembering now what she had overheard John and Mycroft talking about. Mycroft lowered his head and pointed at today's date. Clara's eyes scanned over the journal and a hand flew to her mouth.

_July 14, 1992_

_I've just left a planet with a name even English teachers wouldn't be able to spell. My distant travels with The Doctor and his assistant Clara are amazing, but now I feel a part of me has been ripped away. I had found The Doctor's diary today and I didn't mean to read it. I was just curious to see how long I'm with him. When I came to the date January 23, 2013 everything came crashing down. That date is the date that I lose my future best friend forever and his name is Dr. John Hamish Watson. _

_-SH_


	13. Dying Detective

Clara

John hasn't woken up since the previous night. The Doctor's had tried to pull Sherlock away from him so they could treat the stubborn consulting detective for his various burns and wounds, but Sherlock had refused. He stayed by John's side. Clara sat in the room with The Doctor next to her and watched over the two detectives. Sherlock looked so weary and so lost Clara realized that this was what he had been blaming himself for. This was why he wanted them to leave him for dead. He didn't want this to happen to John. Clara chewed at her lip. She felt horrible for the detective. He shouldn't be blaming himself. After all it was the Slitheen that had done this. They had hurt him.

"So, where are the screwdrivers?" Sherlock asked suddenly. Clara's eyes widened.

"How did you-"

"Know?" filled in Sherlock. "It was simple. The coloring was just a few shades too dark for the real ones. What were the ones you gave them?" Sherlock asked, not pulling his eyes from his best friend resting in the white bed.

"We filled them up with vinegar. If anything tries to use them the screwdrivers will blow," Clara stated. She reached into her pocket then. "I have the real ones right here." Sherlock smirked then.

"I see why he likes you," he mused. Clara smiled at that and then glanced at the Doctor.

"Is there anything you can do?" Clara whispered, praying that Sherlock couldn't hear her. The Doctor stared at John for a long while, but then shook his head.

"I could, but according to the entry in Sherlock's journal-"

"Doctor, please!" Clara whispered. "Look what it's doing to him!" They looked back at Sherlock to see only the shell of the man he once had been. The Doctor moaned silently, but nodded in agreement. He walked over to the side of the bed, running his screwdriver over John's sleeping form. He checked the readings on John and then pressed the palms of his hands on either side of John's face. Sherlock watched; hope sparking in his eyes as he did so. Once The Doctor pulled away his hands John's eyes flickered open. A smile fell over Sherlock's face then and he dropped his head into John's chest, no longer able to hold back the emotions.

"Whoa! Sherlock, what's wrong? What am I doing here?" John gasped, holding a gentle hand on Sherlock as the young man cried.

"Wait you remember me?" Sherlock gasped, head shooting up and staring into John's green eyes. John let out a laugh, ruffling Sherlock's curly hair.

"Who could forget you of all people?" John asked, smiling gently at his upset friend. Sherlock's eyes fell to The Doctor's and the Time Lord winked at him. A small smile fell over Sherlock's face and he mouthed a small thank you before burying his face into John's chest. John stared at his friend in surprise, but wrapped his arms around him gently. "What happened, Sherlock?" John asked.

"Wait, you don't remember a thing?" Clara asked, suddenly. John shook his head, staring at her and The Doctor in confusion. Not only did he not remember what had happened the past few days he forgot who Clara and the Doctor really were too.

* * *

John

Everything was a blur. John could remember he was searching for something. Maybe they had been on a case and he got hurt? He let his eyes fall back to the weeping consulting detective. His heart clenched at the sight of his friend. Sherlock's mask was completely shattered and emotions were wrapping themselves around the distressed detective all at once. John bothered at his lip. How bad had his injuries been to cause such pain for his usually stoic friend? The other question was: who were those people in his room? They had left now to give him and Sherlock some time alone, but John felt like he should know them. Maybe they had been the clients to the case?

"Don't you dare do that again, John," Sherlock whimpered suddenly. John glanced down, meeting the broken blue eyes of his closest friend. John ran a hand through his hair.

"Sure, Sherlock. Umm…it would help if I actually remembered what happened to us this week," John said, glancing over Sherlock cut up body. He looked like hell. His face was cut up and dried blood clung to his pale face, making John's stomach twist. Large bruises ringed his neck as well, making John even more fearful of what had happened. The bruising around Sherlock's neck looked horrible and the detective seemed to be refusing treatment.

"It was my fault, John. If I hadn't been gotten you into this case you never would have…"

"Hey, hey!" John gasped, sitting up and pulling Sherlock tighter into him. He ran a hand gently down Sherlock's back, surprised by how broken his detective was. Tears streamed down his own eyes now as he comforted his dear friend. He couldn't help it. Seeing Sherlock like this was so distressing. "Sherlock, don't you dare blame yourself. I know the risks of the cases we take. I choose to go on them. If it's anybody's fault it's my own," John cooed. Sherlock nodded and John pulled him back, smiling at his friend.

"Now, when was the last time you bloody ate something?!"


	14. Losing Your Memory

Clara

"Do it," Sherlock spat as they stood outside John's room. He had fallen asleep after Sherlock had told him that they had been on a case and there was a fire at the place they were looking at. The good doctor seemed to buy it. Now here they stood with Sherlock asking the impossible. "He lost his memories of you. He was supposed to lose all memories of me according to your diary. My John, the John who knew me was supposed to die, but when you healed him you switched it. You are the ones he doesn't know. Now I'm asking you to do the same for me," Sherlock stated, staring into the Doctor with those penetrating blue eyes. Clara swallowed as she stood, watching with wet eyes.

"Sherlock-"

"Knowing about you hurts people, Doctor. If I continue to remember my time with you only more danger will come. Anyway, I don't think I can live with knowing that it's my fault he got dragged into this," Sherlock stated, lowering his head. The Doctor swallowed, nodding.

"Alright, Sherlock," the Doctor whispered, pressing the palms of his hands to Sherlock's face. Clara gasped, about to shout at the Doctor to stop, but she snapped her mouth shut. This was Sherlock's decision, but…they couldn't just wipe everything he's done away! It was too horrible. All those times wasted away. Sherlock noticed Clara's distress and smiled at her. It was a kind smile. A smile that he had only ever given her and Clara often wondered why that was. Now she would never know, not until the next time and now it appears that will never occur. Still, the smile melted her sorrows and she returned the smile.

"You…you take it easy, Sherlock," Clara said, feeling tears crack her voice. Sherlock smirked at her then, winking.

"Why should I take it easy when everything I've done everything but easy?"

"Because if you collapse from exhaustion John is going to kill you," Clara stated, putting her hands on her hips. Sherlock let out a laugh and Clara joined him, there sorrows slowly washing away. This was how she was going to remember Sherlock Holmes. She wasn't going to see him as the broken shell he was when John awoke. She was going to see him happy and laughing.

"Ready?" The Doctor asked; voice soft. Sherlock nodded and The Doctor put his hands back to their place on Sherlock's face.

"Goodbye," Sherlock murmured before closing his eyes. Clara and The Doctor said their goodbyes as well and The Doctor closed his eyes. There was a small flash and Sherlock's body jerked as the memories were torn away from him. Afterword, Sherlock slipped to the floor, falling into a deep sleep.

"I'll take care of these two," Mycroft stated as he approached them. "Run back to your time machine, Doctor. Just like the last time." Clara stepped forward, raising a hand to smack the elder Holmes, but The Doctor pulled her back and dragged her down the hall with him, not looking back once. Clara looked back though, sending a hateful glare at the elder Holmes.

"Doctor, I'm sorry," Clara said as they sat in the TARDIS. The Doctor was staring a the screen with distant eyes.

"It was always going to end like this. I can never see them again, for if I do they could be risked remembering me again." Clara squeezed his shoulder and the two stood in silence. The Doctor took in a shaky breath after a few silent moments and straitened his bow tie, smirking gleefully at his magnificent machine. "Let's go find a way to get you out of those screwdrivers," The Doctor stated, pushing a few buttons and flying around the TARDIS. The ship rocked and the Doctor laughed as they flew away.

They would never forget about their friends from Baker Street, even if the detectives had forgotten them. One day though, they knew they would meet again.

* * *

John

"You Idiot!" John shouted as he stared at the hospital bed. Sherlock looked at him tiredly, yawning. It had only been a few moments after John woke up that Mycroft came in and said Sherlock had collapsed from exhaustion. John had jumped right out of his bed and ran straight for Sherlock's room next door. Bandages finally covered the detective's wounds and his bruises were taken care off. Mycroft had then told him that Sherlock had hit his head when he collapsed and a few memories had shifted away. Now here he was glaring down at the detective. How many times had he told Sherlock to take care of himself? He had to be in the upper thousands by now.

"John, I've told you. I'm married to my work and everything else is-"

"Transport, yes I know," John finished. "But, you lost your memories of the entire case and bits and pieces of your childhood, Sherlock! This is serious!"

"Well, then it appears we both are in the same boat then," Sherlock stated, staring at John with those sharp blue eyes. "After what you've told me I don't think I'd want to remember anyway," Sherlock stated. John shut his mouth then, a gentle look crossing back over his face. He couldn't say no to that. Whatever had happened during this weak had done things to the detective and perhaps it was better that they were both left in the dark. However, that didn't mean Sherlock could get away with running himself to the point of collapse.

"Still, I'm phoning Lestrade and telling him that there will be no cases for you until you have gotten some rest and some food in you," John stated, crossing his arms. Sherlock frowned at him.

"But, John!" Sherlock wined. "What do you expect me to do?!"

"If you're thinking to shoot more smiley faces in our wall think again, Buddy. I'm sure you can think of something." Sherlock let out a huff and dramatically fell back down against his pillows, flinging his hands into the air.

"Not if I die of boredom first!"

* * *

John and Sherlock stared out the windows of 221B only a few days later, staring at the beautiful stars glittering above them. They still had no memories, but they didn't care. They didn't know why they were so interested in staring up at the stars at night. They never used to feel so attached to the glinting sparks of light, but ever since the day they lost their memories the stars seemed far more beautiful than usual.

"Hey, what was that?" Sherlock gasped, squinting into the sky. John laughed at the detective.

"A falling star, Sherlock," John laughed. He knew Sherlock didn't know much about the solar system, but he never thought Sherlock wouldn't know what a simple falling star was. Sherlock frowned at him, pointing at where the star had been.

"No! It was a box! A blue box!" John burst out laughing at that, slapping a hand against Sherlock's back.

"Sherlock, you've been staring at the stars a little too long I thing. Come on let's make some tea," John chuckled, helping the detective to his feet. Sherlock mumbled under his breath, but John just kept laughing. A little blue box flying though space. Now that was a laugh.

* * *

**AND DONE! I hope you've all enjoyed this. I am planning on writing a sequel/prequel about this where it begins with Sherlock meeting The Doctor and Clara and then runs to where I left off in this chapter. I can't promise it to be up for a while though. I'm working on already a handful of other fics and stories of my own so just adding to the pile will be a little too overwhelming. I envy those who can keep themselves just to write one story at a time rather then 20. So in other words keep an eye out. Thanks for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting. You guys are the best!**

**PS: for those of you asking, Dream of a Madman will be up later tonight before I leave for Sandiego. I'll be posing the next chapter when I return.**


End file.
